


Sex Therapy

by outoftheashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Banter, Blow Jobs, Castiel Gives Oral Sex (Supernatural), Casual Sex, Dean Winchester Gives Oral Sex, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, Drinking, Drunk Sam Winchester, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Enthusiastic Consent, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Experimentation, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Handcuffs, Heart-to-Heart, Horny Sam Winchester, Implied Bottom Dean, Light Angst, M/M, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Panties, Protective Dean Winchester, Protectiveness, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Sexual Experimentation, Teasing, again an attempt, because Dean couldn't chill, dean undresses sam, er well there's an attempt, implied top cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/pseuds/outoftheashes
Summary: Dean and Cas fuck. It’s not serious or romantic. Cas knows who comes first. It's Sam and will always be Sam.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50
Collections: Supernatural Kink Meme





	Sex Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re here after the finale needing romantic Destiel or Dean pining for Cas I’m sorry to say that this isn’t the fic for you. 
> 
> The Sam and Dean scene at the end was supposed to be platonic but I added a wincest UST tag to be on the safe side because there’s some vibes from Sam and behaviors that could be seen as more than brotherly.

“Hey,” Dean says with a smirk, dropping his bag of goodies onto the motel bed he’d be sharing with Cas for the next few hours. It won’t be the full night. They both know that Dean will toss and turn until he can’t stand being away from Sam a second longer and seek solace in the room next door.

It’s the way things are, everyone knows it and accepts it. No hard feelings. Shockingly enough, sometimes Dean’s sorta okay at communicating. Cas knows where he stands and who comes first. It’s Sam and will always be Sam. Dean’s favorite person.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas murmurs, peeking into the plastic bag. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with these,” he says, fingers gliding over the metal handcuffs.

“Yeah, I know, you kinky little shit,” Dean says, chuckling. “Don’t get too attached just yet. There’s more.”

“Oh?” Cas gazes up at Dean, eyebrow quirking. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, naked except for a tie hanging around his neck. It’s kind of hilarious.

“Yeah, I’ll have to show you,” Dean says but makes no move to do so.

“Hurry up. You know how I feel about begging,” Cas replies. It’s more of a demand than a suggestion and that’s to be expected given the fact he’s tip-top full of grace. Cas might’ve chosen Sam and Dean over his own siblings but it doesn’t make him any less a powerful, celestial being. And, honestly, even if Cas _wasn’t_ an Angel of the Lord, Dean can’t picture him being anything other than a bossy little fuck.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean snorts and tugs his shirt over his head. “It’s only fun if you’re the one making _me_ beg. How silly of me, I forgot.”

“You did not,” Cas says, fiddling and poking at the handcuffs as though he’s trying to disarm a bomb.

“It’s called a joke, Cas,” Dean snarks and tosses his shirt at Cas, hitting him square in the face.

Cas shoots Dean a sour look. “You’re being bad tonight.”

“Yup!” Cas might never be entirely on board with Dean’s brand of jokes and teasing and that’s okay. Dean smiles before getting to work on his pants. It’s obvious when Cas sees the present because the handcuffs slip free from his agile fingers, forgotten in a few short breaths.

Dean wears the real prize and he damn well knows it.

“Dean,” Cas says, eyes blown wide with lust. Cas is easy like that. It’s one of the reasons why their little arrangement works so well.

Another reason it works is Dean gets to embrace his own kinks without judgment. He can let loose and be rough, downright _violent_ without worrying he’ll seriously injure the other person he’s with and he can ask for the same treatment in return. And Cas won’t have to stumble into a future relationship entirely clueless. He’ll have most of the pesky practice out of the way. It’s a mutual benefit.

“Heh. Had a feeling you’d like these.” Dean kicks his jeans away then strokes his dick through the soft, silky fabric of his dark green panties.

“Are you going to come here or do I have to grab you?” Cas asks. He’s stretched tight like a rubber band and close to snapping.

“Have some patience,” Dean says, and he feels fucking gleeful when Cas scowls at him. It’s Sammy’s bitchface reimagined and Dean’s totally here for it. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’. How do you want me?”

“Flat on your back.”

Dean’s lips twitch in amusement and he sprawls out on the too-small bed face up. Cas is quick to move into Dean’s space, catching Dean’s gaze before sucking on the head of Dean’s clothed cock, his lips and tongue sinfully warm.

“Holy fuck, Cas. Real eager, huh? Damn, I really made the right call. Proud of myself.”

Cas keeps nursing Dean’s cock, flicking his tongue along the length in an inexperienced, unknown rhythm, like Cas is singing a song in his head that Dean’s never been privy to. This continues until Dean’s choking back dumb little ruined noises. “I wonder if I can make you come like this,” Cas muses against Dean’s weeping cock.

“Fuck, you probably could,” Dean says shakily.

“Dean. I think I want to,” Cas says, blowing hotly on Dean’s throbbing cock.

“But - I don’t wanna fuck up the panties.”

“You can wash them,” Cas murmurs between bone-meltingly hot licks. “I want to see you make a mess, Dean. And I think you want it, too.”

Dean groans and bucks up against Cas’s mouth. It’s a fruitless endeavor, his dick can’t make itself at home _inside_ , where it wants to be. And even as his cock screams for it, his heart and mind realize Cas is right. “Better be keeping that Vulcan Mind Meld shit to yourself, Cas.”

“I don’t need it anyway,” Cas replies smugly.

And, with that, Cas is back to taking Dean apart.

It’s not the first time he’s had Cas’s mouth but it’s the first time he’s had it like _this._ It’s the first time with teasing so intense he wants to sob. It really shouldn’t be enough friction, it shouldn’t be getting Dean off but it is. He blames the panties. They’re pretty on him and even prettier when Cas is playing with them.

When Dean comes, he bites into his fist to hold back the sound. If he’s not careful he might scar his brother for life. Okay, scratch that, scar him _more_ than Dean already has because it wouldn’t be the first time that Sam’s heard Dean and Cas fuck.

He waits for Cas to pull away entirely but Cas doesn’t, opting instead to drag Dean’s come-filled panties down Dean’s ass and thighs with his teeth. “You got that move from me.”

Cas shrugs, not denying it but seemingly deciding it’s not worth spending time discussing either. For a moment, they simply stare at each other. Then Cas handcuffs Dean, slowly unwraps the tie from around his neck, knots it around the chain, and secures the other end to the headboard. He’s quick to straddle Dean’s chest after that, cock barely out of reach. Cas jacks himself slowly, lips tilting upwards in amusement when Dean strains his neck, trying to taste him. The keyword here is _try_ because he fails. Badly.

“Shit,” Dean breaths out, undulating beneath Cas. “C’mon, know you wanna fuck my mouth, it’s what you’re here for, ain’t it?”

“Yes. It is.” Cas’s barely there smile turns into a full-on smirk. “But your impatience makes me want to draw it out as long as possible.”

“Little shit,” Dean says, not unfondly.

Cas shrugs and smacks Dean’s lips with his cock. Dean manages a brief lick before Cas is shifting out of his reach again. “You’re the one who taught me how to torture a partner. And this certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve delayed my pleasure or yours - so don’t bother acting surprised.”

Dean attempts to use Sam’s pathetic puppy-dog eyes method. “Come on, Cas. I need you so bad.”

Cas snorts and paints Dean’s mouth with pre-come. It punches a moan out of Dean. “You’re getting better at that.”

“At what?” Dean asks, feigning innocence. He turns the sad, pleading eyes up to eleven.

Cas squints at Dean, which means one of two things 1) Dean’s about to get that dick or 2) Cas is about to throw him around and, if he’s lucky, _still_ get that dick. “You’ve been practicing,” he accuses and, before Dean can deny it and keep up the game, Cas shoves inside Dean sharply.

Dean chokes at first, his body tensing at the abrupt intrusion but he closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. In, out, in, out. He pays attention to the steady rise and fall of his stomach and chest. He smells the rain and ozone on Cas’s skin. Dean’s throat relaxes almost as quickly as it had closed up and when Cas thrusts inside Dean, his pace vicious and unrelenting, Dean _takes_ it. He makes a fucking mess on Cas’s cock, drooling all over them both, but that’s just fine because Cas is able to fuck Dean as deep as he wants. His hands are on Dean’s head, on Dean’s face, and he just fucking _goes_ for it.

“Slut,” Cas says. Dean gazes at Cas through his lashes, lust settling in his belly. He just came a few minutes ago but if Cas keeps this up he’ll be hard again in no time. This isn’t how Cas prefers to speak to Dean but he does it _for_ him. He does it because Dean wants and needs it. Dean’s always going to be grateful for that, for the easy acceptance and willingness to try. “You’d drop to your knees for almost anyone, wouldn’t you? You’d allow yourself to be passed around and debased for a fleeting moment of pleasure. You’re so desperate I’m uncertain what lines you’ll refuse to cross, if they exist at all.”

Dean might save his experimental side for Cas but he sees himself in the filth Cas is spilling anyway. It’s fucking hot. So, naturally, Dean hums in agreement.

“At least you can admit you’re sex-obsessed,” Cas growls and pulls out of Dean’s mouth.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Dean pouts but Cas isn’t listening. He’s already on another mission, slithering down the bed, eyes sly and dark with need. “Cas, c’mon. I want you to come, too.”

“What makes you think I won’t?” Cas husks and nudges Dean’s trembling thighs further apart, laser-focused on Dean’s ass.

Dean’s not sure he can get it up again but it doesn’t matter. He likes being used just as much as Cas likes using him.

* * *

Dean doesn’t bother knocking on Sam's door, he simply lets himself in. He notes Sam's flushed cheeks, the lazy spread of his thighs, how his torso and arms sway and knows right away Sam’s fucked up. "Awe, drunk already, Sammy? And without me?" he ribs and walks towards his brother.

Sam chuckles, caging Dean in with his stupidly long legs when he ventures too close. "Had to. You were makin’ me wait."

"Look, I had to get laid, it's not my fault." Dean pats Sam's cheek. "Have you had any water?"

Sam shakes his head no. "Was it good?"

Dean sucks in a surprised breath. Sam doesn’t usually ask things like this. Mostly he complains or refrains from talking about it altogether. "Damn, kid, you know better than that." Dean leans over Sam and snatches up a bottle of Aquafina. "Drink this," he demands, placing it in Sam's lap.

Sam shakes his head. "You dun wanna drink with me? C’mon, Dean." He reaches up, grabbing ahold of Dean's jacket.

"I'll drink with you if you have some water first," Dean says firmly. "Quit looking at me like that, it's cheating."

Sam grins wide. "Like what?"

Dean huffs and drops down to his knees, playfully smacking Sam's thighs before fumbling with his little brother's well-worn boots. "You're being such a brat right now."

"I'm your brat, though," Sam says. He allows Dean to pull off his boots as he finishes his beer.

Dean scowls. "What did I say, Sam? Drink some damn water! Seriously, do I gotta force it down your throat? 'Cause I will if I have to."

"Don’t worry, m’gonna," Sam assures him and grabs the water, tipping his head back as he chugs it.

Dean stays on his knees, watching Sam. "Good. Don't want you puking your guts out tonight. You’re a huge bitch when you’re hungover."

When the water is gone, Sam clumsily flings the bottle over Dean’s head. Dean’s too worried about Sam to observe where it lands. "Happy?"

"Not really," Dean mutters. He swats Sam's thighs again. "C'mon, it's bedtime."

"No," Sam whines, the petulant little fuck. "Sleep is boring. Drink with me."

"Goddammit, Sam," Dean says. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries his damnedest to breathe. "Fine. But get on your bed first.”

"Okay... Are you coming with me?"

"Uh, why? You want me to get on the bed with you?"

Sam's big hands grab at the front of Dean's jacket again. "Please? I missed you."

Dean can’t say no to that face. Even though Sam’s neediness is weird as fuck. _Dammit, Sam. "All right_ ," he says. Dean's pulse is tripping over itself. He’s wired, clumsy, and confused. _Caught_. "Let's get over there, then."

Sam gets up, stumbling, and hangs off of Dean to keep himself upright. "Hey, Dean."

"Hey," Dean says, wrapping an arm around Sam's hip. "Uh, what ya wanna drink?”

Sam hums and nuzzles into Dean's neck. "You pick."

Dean strains for the six-pack of El Sol. Sam’s screwed up enough as it is, he doesn’t need anything harder even though Dean would much prefer a shot or twenty of whiskey. Drinking is Dean’s habit, it’s _his_ thing _._ Not Sam’s. Getting drunk tends to be the harbinger of bad things for his little brother, a testament that all is not well in that big brain of his. Sam has lost his grip, lost his careful restraint, his control. It’s up to Dean to find it again. "Move those long-ass legs, freak."

A thin whine leaves Sam's throat and he straightens, standing his full height. His walk is wobbly at best and he trips into bed, movements accidental and uncoordinated rather than purposeful.

"Never could handle your alcohol," Dean says quietly as he gazes down at Sam.

Sam rolls onto his back, reaching for Dean. "C’mere.”

"I’m here to drink. Can't really do that when you're laying down." Dean takes Sam's hand, gently tugging him until he’s upright. "There you go, much better." Dean plops on the bed, crawling until he’s situated on the other side next to Sam then places the beer in front of them.

"You're the best,” Sam purrs, nudging Dean's shoulder with his face.

Dean hesitates before carding his fingers through Sam's hair. "Someone's in a really good mood.”

"Yeah.”

Dean tugs Sam's hair gently before withdrawing and gets to work opening a beer, giving himself something to do with his hands.

"You didn't answer my question."

Dean jerks in surprise and stares at Sam guiltily. "What question?"

"Was the sex good?” Sam rasps, asking the thing Dean was hoping Sam would _drop._ It happens so damn easy, like it isn’t going to throw Dean off-kilter for _days_ or _weeks_ or the rest of _forever._ Like it’s an okay thing for a brother to want to know. And, all right, so maybe Dean’s a hypocrite. He’s been on the other end, he has _asked_ these kinds of questions, but it’s always been for the pissy _reaction_ , for the prude-like, fire-hot, downright explosive outrage, it’s always to poke the bear and run before Sam retaliates. It’s absolutely _not_ because he _ever_ anticipated that Sam would give him a fucking play by play.

Okay, whatever, it’s probably because Sam’s drunk and not thinking. Tomorrow Sam will attempt to drown Dean in apologies or silently flagellate himself - neither of which Dean wants.

_Fuck._

"Ya, Sammy. 'Course it was. And, to be honest, I thought you already knew that. I mean... your room is right next to ours.”

Double fuck. Why the _hell_ did he say _that_? Teasing Sam mercilessly until they could move past the whole dumb thing had to be a better plan than fucking telling him the truth.

"Yeah. You were loud.”

Dean drinks long and deep from his beer. "Sorry.”

"Made me miss you."

"Well, I'm here now," Dean says, choosing his words carefully. And that’s a bit out of the ordinary for Dean, he’s usually a bit more snappish than this, a bit more ready to pick a fight when Sam says something that hits him wrong. But he can’t do that, not now, not when Sam’s not playing with a full deck. But it _does_ hit Dean wrong, Sam saying he _missed_ him. As if Dean had packed up and left Sam high and dry for _weeks_ instead of mere hours. As if Dean were capable of saying goodbye to Sam like that. No, no that had never fucking been Dean. Not by choice, not ever by choice. Not for any significant length of time. Okay, so there is that pesky little habit of _dying_ but that _so_ doesn’t count.

 _Tomorrow._ Tomorrow he’ll poke fun at Sam when he’s sober and aware and this will blow over. Tomorrow Sam will stop saying these weird awful things that claw into Dean’s flesh and leave new wounds on top of old, forgotten ones. Tomorrow they can go back to enjoying each other’s company _without_ sad ass attempts of having a heart-to-heart or whatever the fuck it is that Sam’s trying to kickstart here.

 _Tonight -_ Dean doesn’t want to think too hard about tonight.

Sam places his arm around Dean's waist and leans his chin on Dean's shoulder. "Yeah," he replies, voice hitching. "Mine, my big brother -”

"Getting real handsy with me,” Dean interjects. _Snap the fuck out of it, Sam._

"Should I stop?" Sam asks, stung.

Dean lets out a shaky breath and strokes Sam’s cheek. "I think you need to sleep,” he says instead of _yes, you asshole._ He’s being exceedingly gentle but he’s too shaken up to be proud of himself just yet.

"Yeah, okay Dean."

"I'll help you undress.” Sam’s adorably moody as he puts his arms up and Dean tugs Sam's shirt up over his head quickly, his eyes landing on Sam's tiny, pink nipples. He tweaks them playfully without thinking through potential consequences. He touches Sam without thinking _at all_.

Sam moans softly, alerting Dean to his stupidity. "F-fuck."

"Sensitive?" Dean asks then inwardly kicks himself. "Nevermind, forget I asked. Uh, you want your pants off, too?"

Sam nods, flopping over. "Please."

"Okay, Sammy," Dean rasps, quickly unzipping Sam's pants. "Lift your ass up." Sam slips once before he’s able to obey. "Good," Dean says, dragging Sam's jeans down below the swell of his ass and thighs.

Sam groans as his half-hard cock springs up. Dean notices and hurriedly pulls Sam's pants the rest of the way off, leaving his underwear alone.

"Sorry."

Dean's breath hitches and he can’t quite make himself look away. "I can go take a shower while you deal with... that..."

Sam huffs, looking conflicted. “No. Don’t want you to leave again."

Dean's pulse jumps and he licks his lips. "If you keep your hands off your dick I'll lay down with you til you go to sleep."

Sam nods. "Yeah. Okay, Dean."

Dean stares at Sam's crotch for a few more seconds before shrugging out of his jacket. He throws it onto the other bed then lays down next to Sam, draping an arm across Sam's belly.

Sam reacts immediately and curls against Dean, breathing him in. "Dean.”

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Thanks. I needed this."

Dean's chest tightens. "Needed what?"

"Touch. Hungry for it."

Dean rubs circles into Sam's hipbone and across his toned belly. "You need to get laid, dude. I can be your wingman, help you find someone,” Dean says, his mind whirring with the possibilities, latching onto this potential fix-it.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“No maybes. Tomorrow it’s your turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Was affectionately titled ‘Love Free and Panty Hard’ but decided to lay off the sillies. Grieve the loss with me if you’d like. 
> 
> El Sol is supposedly the most common brand of beer in the Supernatural universe according to the superwiki. 
> 
> And a special thanks to Holly/Wearingdeantoprom for helping me sort out the Sam and Dean scene at the end! 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed me!


End file.
